'INDING 
IS  SOUL 


NORMAN 

DUNCAN 


±Jt 


of 
Mrs.    ^eonora  B.    Lucas 


IN"    A    CHEAT   ILLUMINATION    OF  THE    SPIRIT    HE    TREMHI.EI)   AN'I) 
WAS    ASTONISHED 


t 


BY 

NORMAN     DUNCAN 

AUTHOR  OF 
"DOCTOR  LUKE  OF  THE  LABRADOR" 


ILLUSTRATED 


HARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

NEW   YORK   AND    LONDON 

M  C  M  X  1 1 1 


COPYRIGHT.     1913.     BY    HARPER    ft     BROTHERS 
PRINTED    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES    OF    AMERICA 


PUBLISHED    OCTOBER.     1913 

E-N 


P 

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FINDING    HIS    SOUL 


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sr^t^Tr-^  ?VW^^^T^*^<»C  ^^.\ 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 


V 


AMES  FALCONTENT  of 

Groot  &  McCarthy  was,  in 
the  most  singular  fashion 
to  be  imagined,  struck  with 
ominous  amazement.  And 
big  James  Falcontent  had  got  well  past 
the  years  of  simplicity:  he  was  not 
easily  startled.  The  Fifth  Avenue  bus 
had  stopped;  Falcontent  had  glanced 
up  from  his  musing — a  purely  com 
mercial  calculation,  being  nothing 


45G889 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

more  romantic  than  some  trick  of  the 
trade  having  to  do  with  the  sale  of 
boots  and  shoes.  But  what  Falcontent 
had  then  observed  —  he  was  gently 
yawning  at  the  time — nevertheless  as 
tounded  him  beyond  recent  experience. 
Moreover,  it  led  him  eventually  to 
far-away  places  and  engrossed  him  in 
preposterous  emotions.  Here,  indeed, 
was  the  first  flutter  of  the  wrings  of 
Fate.  No;  it  was  not  a  woman. 
A  splendid,  high-stepping,  modish 
creature,  of  impeccable  propriety,  of 
gracious,  aristocratic  demeanor,  might 
mildly  have  interested  James  Fal 
content  in  passing.  But  since  the 
last  departure  of  Matilda — well,  since 
the  death  of  Falcontent's  wife,  Fal 
content  had  persuaded  himself  that 
women  were  not  at  all  pertinent  to 
his  life  in  the  world.  No;  it  was  not 

2 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

a  woman.  Nothing  of  the  sort!  A 
church  had  dumfounded  Falcon- 
tent. 

Nobody  was  going  in  or  out;  the 
bronze  doors  were  closed  and  doubt 
less  locked  fast  against  untimely  in 
trusion. 

"Shut  down  for  the  week,  by 
George!"  Falcontent  commented,  in 
astonishment. 

It  was  a  gigantic  building  occupy 
ing  a  great  block  of  wrhat  Falcontent 
called  in  his  business  lingo  high-class 
real  estate.  And  it  was  truly  a  mag 
nificent  edifice.  It  occurred  all  at 
once  to  Falcontent  that  a  plant  of 
this  spaciousness  and  exquisite  ex 
terior,  running  full  time,  as  it  were, 
only  on  Sundays,  with  occasional 
week-day  operations,  situated  in  a 
neighborhood  in  which  real  estate 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

values  were  of  such  an  appalling  char 
acter  that  few  men  could  look  upon 
them  and  live  thereafter  without  hor 
rified  envy,  must  have  an  enormous 
patronage  to  support  it.  That  is  to 
say,  a  good  many  people  of  conse 
quence  must  still  be  going  to  church. 
And  it  astonished  Falcontent  to  the 
very  deeps  of  his  knowledge  of  the 
world  to  confront  this  visible  evidence 
of  what  he  had  for  a  good  many  years 
conceived  to  have  become  an  old- 
fashioned  and  generally  abandoned 
habit  of  piety.  Moreover,  Falcon- 
tent  could  recall  other  churches. 
There  were  hundreds  of  them.  There 
were  thousands.  Good  Lord,  there 
must  be  millions — the  country  over! 
And  most  of  them,  Falcontent  was 
shocked  to  remember,  were  of  an 
extravagant  magnitude  and  ele- 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

gance,  each  according  to  its  com 
munity. 

What  the  deuce  did  people  still  go 
to  church  for,  anyhow?  Nobody  that 
Falcontent  was  intimate  with  ever 
went  to  church.  But  there  must  still 
be  something  in  it! 

Falcontent  began  to  ponder  this 
odd  disclosure  when  the  bus  got  un 
der  way.  Thus:  Well,  anyhow,  the 
young  women,  God  bless  'em!  went 
to  church  to  display  their  dainty  lit 
tle  attractions  and  to  assert  each  her 
peculiar  interpretation  of  the  fashions 
of  the  day.  Of  course!  That  was 
plain  enough.  It  always  had  been 
that  way.  It  was  tenderly  feminine, 
too — a  most  engaging  weakness  of 
the  sex.  And  the  young  men — amor 
ous  young  sparks  of  the  town — fol 
lowed  the  young  women.  A  very 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

natural  and  proper  thing!  It  always 
had  been  that  way.  And  Falcon  tent 
had  done  it  himself— long  ago.  The 
delectable  business  of  mating,  then, 
accounted  for  a  good  deal.  But  not 
for  very  much.  Still,  there  were 
the  aged.  They  went  to  church,  of 
course,  for  the  traditional  consolations 
of  religion.  Falcontent  wondered, 
flushed  with  melancholy,  whether  or 
not  they  got  what  they  went  for. 
Probably  not.  Falcontent  did  not 
know.  He  had  heard  rumors  to  the 
contrary;  and  these  rumors  now 
mightily  incensed  him.  Hang  it  all, 
anyhow!  There  was  nothing  specific 
or  downright  any  more.  Doubtless 
the  old-fashioned  religion,  such  as 
Falcontent  had  known  as  a  boy,  was 
in  these  days  altogether  a  thing  of 
the  past. 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

"The  devil!"  Falcontent  thought, 
out  of  temper  with  the  times;  "they 
might  at  least  have  preserved  that 
institution  for  a  while — for  one  more 
generation — if  for  nothing  more  than 
mere  sentiment's  sake." 

Deuce  take  it  all! 

"Of  course  the  thing  had  to  go  to 
the  scrap-heap;  but  still — for  a  few 
more  years — 

Other  folk  went  to  church,  as  Fal 
content  very  well  knew:  men  of 
largest  riches,  for  example,  whose 
hobby  was  pious  behavior  in  private 
life,  and  who  voiced  with  amusing 
precision  in  the  Sunday-schools  the 
antique  platitudes  of  piety.  Fal 
content  grinned  grimly  when  this 
crossed  his  mind  with  significance. 
Groot,  of  Groot  &  McCarthy,  was  a 
man  cut  from  that  cloth.  But  never 

7 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

mind  Groot!  The  upkeep  of  these 
expensive  establishments  was  not  by 
any  means  to  be  accounted  for  by 
the  piety  of  Falcontent's  unctuous 
boss.  What  the  deuce  did  keep  the 
churches  on  their  feet?  Well,  there 
was  just  one  adequate  answer:  there 
must  still  be  a  vast  body  of — of— 
well,  of  consumers  of  religion,  so  to 
speak — of  paying  patrons  of  religious 
exercises — whom  Falcontent  had  for 
gotten,  and  of  whose  needs  and  an 
cient  practices  he  had  continued  in 
surprising  ignorance.  It  was  these 
substantial  folk  who  kept  the  churches 
in  what  was  obviously  a  thriving 
state  of  health.  Churches  in  the 
city,  churches  in  the  towns — church 
es  the  whole  country  over !  Stee 
ples  everywhere,  by  George !  Good 
Lord,  there  must  be  a  big  bunch 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

of     people     in     the     country  -  -  like 
that! 

They  were  the  real  people,  too. 
They  were  always  the  real  people. 
No  matter  what  sort  of  big  industry 
their  patronage  kept  on  its  feet — 
they  were  the  real  people!  And  every 
business  man  knew  it. 

"These  people  are  not  giving  some 
thing  for  nothing,"  Falcontent  re 
flected,  somewhat  disturbed  by  this 
novelty  of  truth.  "They're  getting 
something  out  of  it." 

That  was  a  business  proposition. 

"I  wonder,"  Falcontent  puzzled, 
"what  the  deuce  they  do  get  out  of 
it — in  these  days." 

Falcontent  was  himself  a  robust 
fellow.  He  was  highly  efficient:  he 
was  a  hustler — of  the  most  up-to-date 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

and  scientifically  efficient  sort.  And 
he  conformed:  he  was  sane  according 
to  every  notion  of  the  times.  In 
shirts,  shoes,  hose,  cravats,  hair-cut, 
occupation,  waist-line,  language,  hab 
its,  interests,  antipathies,  finger-nails, 
clean-shaven  condition,  oaths,  chari 
ties — in  everything  a  man  might  be 
disposed  to  call  in  question — Falcon- 
tent  was  of  the  day  and  proper  beyond 
quibble.  He  gave  no  sign  even  of  the 
subtle  beginnings  of  peculiarity.  He 
was  precisely  like  everybody  else  in 
his  world:  it  would  have  horrified 
him — grieved  and  shamed  him — to 
discover  any  symptom  of  significant 
difference.  In  brief,  Falcontent  was 
in  vigorous  health.  Not  an  alienist 
of  virtuous  reputation  could  have  dis 
covered  in  him  the  least  divergence 

from  the  straight  line  of  normality. 
10 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

Nor  could  a  surgeon,  with  due  re 
gard  for  the  ethics  of  his  profession, 
have  found  in  Falcontent  any  honest 
occupation  for  his  knife;  nor  could  a 
devoted  practitioner  of  internal  medi 
cine  have  supplied  a  need  of  Falcon- 
tent's  hearty  body. 

Falcon  tent's  soul?  Falcontent  had 
no  soul.  Or  rather,  to  be  precise,  he 
had  a  soul,  of  course.  Everybody  has 
a  soul.  Nobody  doubts  that  any 
more:  it  is  not  in  good  taste  even  to 
discuss  the  thing.  But  Falcontent 
was  not  abnormally  conscious  of  hav 
ing  a  soul.  Nobody  in  Falcontent's 
world  acknowledged  the  possession  of 
a  soul.  Falcontent's  soul  took  care  of 
itself:  it  did  not  trouble  him.  And 
had  such  a  phantom  of  his  childhood 
lingered  to  distress  him — to  cry  out 

for  the  bread  and  water  of  attention— 
11 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

Falcontent  would  with  caution  have 
concealed  its  aggravating  habits  from 
the  normal  fellows  with  whom  he  was 
accustomed  to  mingle  upon  terms  of 
the  most  normally  jovial  good-fellow 
ship.  Falcontent — with  a  troublesome 
soul?  You  should  have  heard  Falcon- 
tent  laugh !  A  big,  ruddy,  big-hearted 
chap — that  was  James  Falcontent:  a 
clean,  kindly,  hopeful,  energetic, 
merry  fellow,  given  to  no  meanness, 
to  no  greed,  to  no  unworthy  pride,  to 
no  dishonor  whatsoever. 

Big  James  Falcontent  surely  stood 
in  no  peril  of  the  machinations  of 
mysticism. 

But- 

"  I  don't  know,"  Falcontent  brooded, 
as  the  bus  sped  on  up  Fifth  Avenue, 
"but  that  little  Jimmie  had  better 

start  in  going  to  Sunday-school." 
12 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

All  very  well!  But  little  Jimmie 
might  contract  a  morbid  piety.  He 
might  become — an  angelic  child !  Oh, 
Lord!  .  .  .  Doubtless,  revival  meet 
ings  were  still  in  the  fashion.  And 
some  vivid  gentleman  \vith  a  bright 
brass  cornet  or  a  tinkling  banjo  might 
catch  the  poor  little  devil.  .  .  .  Well, 
how  about  it?  That  was  all  right, 
wasn't  it?  Jimmie  had  to  rough  it, 
hadn't  he? — as  his  father  had  done. 
Jimmie  was  going  to  the  public  school; 
he  was  taking  his  chances  there  like 
a  little  man — and  surviving,  too. 
That  kid  sure  had  the  stuff  in  him. 
.  .  .  But  if  Jimmie  should  turn  out  a 
parson?  .  .  .  Falcontent  gulped.  Par 
sons,  poets,  and  pianists:  they  were 
the  same  sort  of  thing  in  Falcontent's 
primitive  category  of  the  professions. 
.  .  .  Well,  anyhow,  how  about  that? 

13 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

That  was  Jimmies  business,  wasn't 
it?  What  right  had  Falcon  tent  to 
butt  in?  If  Jimmie  really  wanted  to 
be  a  parson — or  a  poet — or  even  a 
pianist  .  .  .  No:  Falcontent  could 
not,  with  any  degree  of  pride  listen 
to  suave  sermons  from  Jimmie.  Nor 
could  he  endure  to  hear  Jimmie  read 
poetry  of  his  own  composition;  nor 
could  he  with  fond  equanimity  observe 
Jimmie's  manipulation  of  the  piano- 
no  matter  how  astonishingly  skilful. 
Come  to  think  of  it,  it  was  little 
Jimmie's  future — and  the  good  pros 
pect  of  a  business  partnership  with 
little  Jimmie — that  kept  James  Fal 
content  the  decent,  kindly,  upright 
fellow  that  he  was.  And  not  an 
uncommon  sort  of  thing,  either!  Fal 
content  looked  forward.  Hope  was 
his;  also  faith. 

14 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

"Anyhow,"  he  determined,  "little 
Jimmie  has  got  to  take  his  chance.  I 
took  mine." 

Having  so  determined,  Falcontent's 
muse  merged  into  a  grinning  reminis 
cence  of  New  England  days — long-ago 
times  of  top-boots  and  mufflers  and 
chapped  hands  and  drowsy  sermons. 
Had  Falcontent's  next  neighbor  on 
the  right  peered  over  his  spectacles 
and  all  at  once  demanded,  "What  is 
the  chief  end  of  man?"  Falcontent 
would  promptly  have  replied,  'To 
glorify  God  and  enjoy  Him  forever!" 
and  would  have  chuckled  the  most 
hearty  enjoyment  of  his  own  clever 
ness.  And  had  the  dainty  old  lady 
opposite  inquired,  "What  is  sanctifi- 
cation?"  Falcontent  would  have  been 
impelled  to  make  an  aw^kward  at 
tempt  to  answer  the  appalling  old 

2  15 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

question — stumbling,  of  course,  over 
the  very  words  upon  which  he  had 
always  stubbed  the  toes  of  his  mem 
ory.  And  had  the  prim  and  pretty 
young  person  to  the  left  smilingly 
requested  a  complete  statement  of 
the  Fifth  Commandment,  Falcontent 
would  surely  have  gained  her  approval 
by  reciting  the  Fifth  Commandment 
with  twinkling  precision.  Well,  well, 
those  days  were  long  past !  And  since 
then  Falcontent's  attention  had  not 
been  unduly  aggravated  in  the  direc 
tion  of  God.  Falcontent  had  been 
busy  making  good.  Queer,  though, 
how  the  old  doctrines  would  persist 
in  a  man's  memory! 

Falcontent  had  made  good.  He 
was  city  salesman  for  Groot  & 
McCarthy — Boston,  New  York,  and 
Philadelphia — earning  with  conspicu- 

16 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

ous  merit  and  spending  with  con 
spicuous  generosity  ten  thousand  a 
year. 

"It's  Sunday-school  for  little  Jim- 
mie!"  he  concluded,  with  a  smile,  as 
he  jumped  off  the  bus  and  stepped 
jauntily  to  the  pavement.  '  / 
went." 

Subsequently,  Falcontent's  atten 
tion  was  frequently  aggravated — and 
with  persistent  assiduity — in  the  direc 
tion  of  those  religious  mysteries  whose 
very  existence  he  had  forgotten  in 
the  business  of  getting  on  in  the 
world.  And  Falcontent  was  delighted 
to  discover  that  he  could  enlighten 
Jimmie — with  the  same  enlighten 
ment  that  he  himself  had  long  ago 
enjoyed.  Almighty  queer  how  those 
old  doctrines  just  would  continue  in  a 


man's  memory! 


17 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

Some  six  months  after  his  amazing 
experience  on  Fifth  Avenue,  Falcon- 
tent  sat,  a  broken  man,  in  the  street 
arbor  of  an  obscure  French  hotel  in 
Cairo.  He  was  alone;  he  was  lonely. 
Jimmie  was  dead.  Good  God,  how 
lonely  it  was  without  him — without 
the  faith  in  his  future!  .  .  .  And 
Cairo  was  an  outlandish  place.  It 
was  the  real  thing,  too:  here  was  no 
Coney  Island  plaster  and  paint.  By 
George,  how  much  like  Coney  Island 
the  East  was!  But  a  man  could  not 
here  catch  the  B.  R.  T.  for  New  York 
and  get  there  before  bedtime.  Fal- 
content  was  astonished  and  deeply 
disgruntled  to  find  himself  in  a  corner 
of  the  world  so  detestably  foreign  and 
far  away  and  absurd.  It  was  horribly 
outlandish.  Everything  was  outland 
ish:  the  shuffle  of  the  street,  soft, 

18 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

suspicious;  and  the  mutter  of  the 
street,  not  honest,  hearty,  but  gut 
tural,  villainously  low-pitched,  incom 
prehensible;  and  the  laughter  of  the 
street,  gurgling  with  ridicule;  and  the 
veiled  women  in  the  carriages,  and  the 
painted,  plumed  women  who  drove 
writh  outriders,  and  the  skirted  na 
tives,  twirling  flirtatious  little  canes, 
or  daintily  fingering  strings  of  glass 
beads,  and  the  beggars,  and  the  dark 
faces,  the  uniforms  of  the  military, 
the  incredible  arrogance  of  the  niggers, 
the  ear-rings,  camels,  cocked  red 
fezzes.  .  .  .  And  the  Continental 
women,  going  in  and  out — swishing, 
chattering,  smeared  little  creatures! 
And  the  Continental  men:  hairy, 
smirking,  gabbing,  posturing,  stage- 
clad  caricatures — oh  ow !  what  waists ! 
what  mustaches!  what  hats!  Surely 

19 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

one  might  fairly  expect  some  comfort 
from  the  mere  caravansary  contact 
with  Europeans!  But — these!  .  .  . 
It  was  hot  weather,  too.  Whew! 
Falcontent  was  in  a  summer's-day 
sweat  in  the  open — and  here  it  was 
night  and  coming  on  late  in  Novem 
ber!  .  .  .  There  were  none  of  the 
shipmates  of  Falcontent's  crossing 
about.  They  had  begun  to  avoid 
Falcontent  long  before  the  landing  at 
Alexandria;  and  Falcontent  had  taken 
care  to  avoid  them  since  the  landing. 
Glimpses  of  the  familiar  in  the  Cairo 
confusion  only  annoyed  Falcontent 
the  more  by  creating  in  his  wretched 
spirit  a  mirage  of  that  which  was 
altogether  familiar — Home.  .  .  .  And 
Falcontent  determined  that  he  must 
have  another  beastly  brandy-and- 
soda.  .  .  , 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

Big  Jim  Falcontent  was  a  broken 
man.  Dragged  from  a  decent  seclu 
sion,  stated  in  clear,  straightaway, 
brief,  bald  terms,  which  anybody  can 
understand,  Falcontent's  trouble  was 
this:  he  was  now  fully  aware  that  he 
had  no  God.  And  that  was  all  that 
was  normally  the  matter  with  Falcon- 
tent.  Queer  enough,  perhaps,  but 
true.  No  material  happening  of  Fal 
content's  life  could  excuse  or  account 
for  the  ghastly  collapse  of  his  spirit. 
Falcontent  was  an  infidel :  Falcontent 
was  an  atheist.  He  had  so  declared 
himself.  It  was  his  best  boast.  Fal 
content  had  said  in  his  heart,  "There 
is  no  God."  But  there  are  no  longer 
any  infidels:  the  infidels  of  other 
times  now  denounce  the  social  system. 
Nobody  denounces  faith.  A  decent 

man,  being  extraordinarily  troubled, 
21 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

says  to  himself:  "Oh,  well,  that's  all 
right!  I  don't  know  anything  about 
it,  anyhow.  I'll  just  have  to  take  my 
chances  with  the  rest  of  the  boys." 
The  talkative  Falcontent  found  him 
self  \vithout  listeners :  he  was  distaste 
ful  to  his  company.  Bartenders 
would  not  humor  his  argument ;  base 
ball  patrons  fled  his  neighbor 
hood  —  and  his  approach  instantly 
dispersed  every  circle  of  his  club- 
mates. 

"What  the  devil's  the  matter  with 
Falcontent?" 

"Why  can't  the  fellow  keep  it  to 
himself?" 

"Sorry?  Why,  sure!  But  in  this 
little  old  world  a  man  must  help 
himself.  It  don't  do  Jim  Falcontent 
any  good  to  listen— 

"What  the  devil  does  he  want  to 

22 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

blatherskite   his    damned    blasphemy 
around  here  for?" 

Falcontent's  business?  Falcon  tent 
used  to  be  "some"  salesman:  he  was 
"some"  salesman  no  longer.  And 
everybody  knew  it.  Groot  knew  it— 
and  waited  with  pious  patience  for 
the  imminent  end.  Galesworth  knew 
it  —  remarked  it  with  melancholy : 
though  Galesworth  and  his  wife  were 
waiting  with  what  patience  they  could 
command  for  Falcontent's  more  re 
munerative  job  of  selling  Groot  & 
McCarthy's  shoes  in  Boston,  Phila 
delphia,  and  New  York.  And  no  won 
der  sales  had  fallen  off!  A  buyer  of 
shoes  cannot  with  profitable  precision 
look  over  a  line  of  samples  and  at  the 
same  time  indulge  an  argument  rab 
idly  directed  against  the  existence  of 
God.  Nor  will  he  attempt  the  perilous 

23 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

acrobatics  involved.  What  has  the 
existence  of  God  to  do  with  a  line  of 
shoes?  Presently  Falcontent  himself 
came  eye  to  eye  with  the  catastrophe 
of  his  uselessness.  "I'm  just  three 
months  off  from  a  Bowery  lodging- 
house,"  he  reflected,  "and  but  a  few 
weeks  longer  from  the  bread-line  and 
the  gutter.  That's  a  devilish  queer 
thing — to  happen  to  me!"  But  he 
knew  why:  it  was  because  he  had 
with  resentful  conviction  said  in  his 
own  heart,  "There  is  no  God."  And 
he  would  go  on  saying  it — that  self 
same  thing,  over  and  over  again. 

Being  an  honest  fellow,  Falcontent 
went  straightway  to  Groot  for  a 
friendly  discussion  of  a  distressful 
situation. 

"Mr.  Groot,"  he  began,  "I  guess 
I'm  all  in." 

24 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

"I  guess  so,"  Groot  admitted. 

Falcontent  started.  :'You  think, 
then,  that—" 

"I  said,"  Groot  drawled,  "that  I 
thought  so  too.  Isn't  that  clear?" 

Mr.  Groot  was  the  partner  of  pri 
vately  pious  inclinations  in  the  shoe- 
manufacturing  firm  of  Groot  &  Mc 
Carthy. 

"If  that's  so,"  said  Falcontent,  "I 
guess  I'm  not  much  use  to  the  firm 
any  more." 

"No,"  Groot  agreed,  "not  much." 

"I  guess  I'd  better  resign?" 

"Huh!"  Groot  grunted. 

"All  right,"  sighed  Falcontent,  de 
spairing.  "  It  might  as  well  take  effect 
at  once." 

A  dreary  silence  fell. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Groot, 
looking  up  from  the  litter  of  his  office- 

25 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

desk.  "Maybe  it  isn't  as  bad  as  all 
that.  Hadn't  you  better  try  a  six 
months'  vacation  with  pay?" 

Falcontent  was  listlessly  grateful. 
"Thanks,"  said  he.  "You're  kind. 
It  wouldn't  do  me  any  good,  though. 
I'm  all  in." 

"Can't  sell  shoes  any  longer?" 

"Devil  a  shoe!  I  can't  do  anything. 
I'm  in  wrong — everywhere." 

Groot  gave  gloomy  assent.  "I 
guess  that's  just  about  right,"  said  he. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Groot,"  Falcontent 
began  to  explain,  a  blithering  loquac 
ity  obviously  impending,  "the  trouble 
wTith  me  is— 

"Don't  tell  me!"  Groot  ejaculated, 
alarmed.  "  I  know  what's  the  trouble 
with  you." 

"But  you  can't  know,  Mr.  Groot!" 
Falcontent's  voice  was  rising  in  mor- 

26 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

bid  agitation.  "  I  haven't  spoken  with 
you — about  this." 

"No  salesman  of  mine  can  run  him 
self  to  hell  in  this  town,"  Groot  de 
clared,  thin-lipped,  his  gray  eyes  flash 
ing  resentfully,  "without  my  knowing 
pretty  much  what's  the  matter  with 
him." 

Falcontent  flushed.  "Well?"  he 
inquired. 

:'  You  run  over  to  the  Holy  Land  for 
a  while,"  said  Groot,  smiling  a  little, 
rubbing  his  lean  hands  like  a  Sunday- 
school  superintendent.  'That  '11  fix 
you  up.  It  fixed  me."  He  sighed; 
his  eyes  sparkled  wistfully.  "I  wish 
I  could  go  along  with  you,"  he  added. 
"I'd— almighty  like  to." 

Falcontent  laughed  softly.  "Holy 
Land!"  he  scoffed. 

"You    want    action,    don't    you?" 

27 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

Groot  demanded,  grimly.  "Well,  a 
little  visit  to  the  Holy  Land  will  make 
you  or  break  you.  Now — you  go!" 

And  here,  at  last,  in  an  obscure 
French  hotel  in  Cairo,  was  Falcontent, 
bound  for  the  Holy  Land,  to  be  made 
or  broken,  at  the  expense  of  Groot  & 
McCarthy.  It  was  amusing;  but 
Falcontent  was  not  amused.  It  was 
not  possible  for  Falcontent  in  the  pass 
of  spiritual  exhaustion  to  which  he 
had  come  to  sustain  even  a  flash  of 
amusement.  Falcontent  was  in  a 
wretched  condition;  he  was  thin, 
weak,  untidy,  downcast.  He  was  a 
little  the  worse  of  brandy-and-soda, 
too,  of  course — nothing  to  speak  of; 
and  he  was  so  very  much  the  worse  of 
Life  that  his  long,  vacant  face,  his 
lusterless  eyes,  his  listless  attitude,  all 

28 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

the  evidences  of  spiritual  fatigue, 
communicated  melancholy  even  to 
those  surroundings  which  had  deter 
mined  to  be  gay  in  spite  of  whatever 
might  happen.  Falcontent  attracted 
glances — which  were  averted,  repelled. 
But  presently  a  spare,  brown,  alert 
little  man — a  muscular  little  fellow, 
washed  by  wind  and  sun,  now  clad  in 
the  fashion  of  a  Continental  dandy, 
with  an  inverted  mustache,  to  which 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  a  quick, 
defiant  twist,  at  the  same  time  indulg 
ing  a  swashbuckling  scowl— sidled 
close  to  Falcontent,  as  though  casu 
ally,  and  sat  down  beside  him,  again 
casually. 

Presently  the  brown  little  man 
flashed  a  keen  eye  over  Falcontent. 
He  glanced  off  at  once;  but  his  clean, 
brown  eyes  presently  returned,  now 

29 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

smiling    ingenuously,    and    he    made 
bold  to  address  the  traveler. 

"Good  evenin',  Mr.  Falcontent," 
he  ventured,  politely. 

"Who  the  devil  are  you?"  Falcon- 
tent  growled. 

:<Ver'  proper  in-qui-ry,"  the  little 
man  warmly  agreed.  His  smile  broad 
ened  trustfully.  "I  was  born  in 
Jerusalem.  Mr.  Amos  Awad.  It  is 
I."  The  announcement  was  made 
with  a  flourish. 

"  Well,  George,"  Falcontent  drawled 
—the  little  man  was  dark  of  skin— 
"will  you  please  tell  me  how  you  hap 
pened  to  know  my  name?" 

;'You  wonder,  eh?" 

"A  con  game,  George?" 

"It  is  matter  business:  that  is  all." 

"Business?  What  business?  You 
don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you've  got 

30 


"l    AM    DRAGOMAN WITH    MOS'    ELEGANT    REFERENCES" 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

an   Oriental   gold   brick   up   in   your 
room?" 

"Gold  brick!"  the  little  man 
laughed.  "  Oh,  dear  me,  no !  Oh,  my 
dear  sir!  Here — it  is  not  America.  I 
have  the  honor  to  explain,"  he  con 
tinued  ,  seriously.  ' *  Privilege  granted  ? 
Ah!  Jus'  so!  I  am  dragoman.  I  am 
jus'  brought  my  party  from  Palestine. 
Ver'  fine  people.  I  am  paid  off  an' 
mos'  generously  dismiss'  with  mos' 
elegant  references.  Egypt?  It  is  not 
my  ver'  bes'  tour.  I  am  not  ver'  well 
acquaint'  with  Egyptian  antiquities. 
But  I  am  fully  acquaint'  with  Holy 
Land  an'  all  things  pertainin'  thereof. 
Holy  Land!  By  Jove!  What  -ver* 
good  Holy  Land  dragoman  am  I !  By 
any  chance  you  go  there,  Mr.  Falcon- 
tent?  I  hope  so.  I  do  hope  so.  I  hope 
so  in  the  ver'  bottom  of  my  heart.  Ah !" 

3  31 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

"Look  here,  George,"  Falcontent 
reproved,  "y°u  haven't  told  me  yet 
how  you  knew  my  name." 

"  Pst !"— scornfully.    "  It  is  nothing. 
The  hotel  clerk" — contemptuously— 
"have  his  little  commission  for  little 
favor  like  that." 

"Oh,  sure.  I  might  have  thought 
of  that." 

"Ver'  simple  thing." 

"Why  didn't  you  lie  about  it?" 

Dignity  galvanized  the  little  man. 
"It  do  not  compat'  with  my  general 
behavior  truth  an'  probity,"  he  said, 
distinctly,  "to  tell  the  lie.  .  .  .  An' 
not  one  single  thing  is  to  be  gain'- 
in  the  end." 

"Oh!"  Falcontent  blankly  ejacu 
lated. 

Falcontent's  surprise  was  suffi 
ciently  apologetic.  :'You  see  the 

32 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

world,  Mr.  Falcontent?"  the  drago 
man  resumed,  again  mildly.  "I  do 
hope  so.  Oh,  my  dear  sir!  A  tour 
round  the  world — includin'  the  Holy 
Land?  No  doubt?" 

"Well,"  Falcontent  admitted,  "I'm 
resting." 

"Ah!  Jus' so!  lunderstan'.  Over 
work  —  doubtless?  A  Wall  Street 
panic?  Hum!  Doubtless  so." 

"No,"  Falcontent  sighed;  "nothing 
like  that." 

Wisdom  and  experience  enlightened 
the  little  man.  He  precisely  compre 
hended. 

"Oh,  my  dear  sir!"  he  exclaimed. 

"My  little  boy  died,"  said  Falcon- 
tent.  "It  knocked  me  out.  .  .  .  Have 
a  drink?" 

The  dragoman  lifted  a  delicate, 
brown  hand.  "I  am  mere  child  in 

33 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

such  matters,  as  it  were,"  said  he. 
He  was  much  like  a  boy  jocularly 
invited  to  partake  in  something  pre 
posterously  beyond  his  years. 

''You  won't  mind,"  Falcontent  be 
gan,  "if  I—" 

Again  a  lift  of  the  brown  hand  and 
a  polite  little  bow.  "I  shall  have  the 
ver'  great  honor,"  said  the  dragoman, 
renewing  the  politeness  of  the  bow, 
"to  observe  consumption  of  brandy- 
an'-sodawithkeensympathyan'relish." 

Falcontent  almost  laughed.  "  Where 
did  you  learn  your  English,  old  man?" 
he  asked,  interested. 

"In  New  York,  sir." 

"Oh,  shucks!" 

"An'  the  Moody  Institute  —  for 
some  small  time." 

"You  didn't  learn  that  kind  of 
talk  anywhere  near  New  York!" 

34 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

"Ah!  I  understan'.  Oh,  my,  no!" 
the  dragoman  protested,  quickly. 
'The  polish,"  he  explained,  "is  ac 
quire'  by  myself  from  readin'  great 
works  of  literature  an'  mos'  modern 
theology." 

Falcontent  warmed  to  the  little 
man.  Awad  was  in  health:  he  had 
the  color  and  sure  power  and  the 
limpid  peace  of  the  open  places.  He 
was  companionable — possibly  in  a 
mercenary  way;  but  what  matter? 
He  would  listen.  In  those  days  Fal 
content  found  his  most  engaging  form 
of  entertainment  in  elucidating  a  sedi 
tious  philosophy  of  the  universe.  And 
into  the  waiting  ear  of  the  dragoman 
he  now  poured  the  tale  of  little  Jim- 
mie's  death.  The  boy  was  dead  and 
buried;  there  had  been  typhoid  fever 

35 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

— and  a  long  fight,  through  which,  it 
seemed,  Falcon  tent  had  entreated  the 
Almighty  to  spare  the  lad.  But  the 
lad  was  dead;  as,  according  to  the 
unrelenting  mysteries,  many  another 
man's  young  son  had  died  before  him. 
Falcon  tent  was  alone;  he  was  stricken 
—ruined.  But  the  death  of  children? 
They  vanish  in  multitudes  and  leave 
all  places  vacant  and  desolate.  It  is 
nothing  out  of  the  way.  Falcontent's 
was  a  commonplace  sorrow :  the  world 
renews  the  like  of  it  every  day.  But 
the  brown  little  man  listened,  with 
many  a  pitying  "Tsc,  tsc,  tsc!"  and 
many  a  muttered  "How  ver'  sad!" 
to  encourage  a  complete  disclosure. 
He  was  alive  to  more  than  the  tale: 
he  was  like  a  physician — alert,  intent, 
analytical,  discovering  from  Falcon- 
tent's  mawkish  and  hardly  coherent 

36 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

recital  the  deeper  springs  of  Falcon- 
tent's  pitiable  state. 

Falcontent  was  in  rebellion.  Ha! 
That  was  the  trouble.  But  why  rebel? 
A  laughable  thing— thus  to  rebel!  A 
preposterous  and  hurtful  perversity! 
Why  not  yield — presently?  Why  not 
say,  "Thy  will  be  done!" — and  culti 
vate  some  form  of  faith?  It  seemed 
to  the  brown  little  dragoman  to  be  a 
brave  and  sensible  sort  of  behavior. 

"Ver'  sad!"  he  sighed,  at  the  end. 

"Sad?"  Falcontent  snarled. 

'The  Lord  gives,"  the  dragoman 
quoted,  apparently  with  sincere  con 
viction,  "an'  the  Lord  takes  away." 

Falcontent  leaned  forward  in  dis 
reputable  anger.  ;'You  mean  to  tell 
me,"  he  flared,  his  voice  risen,  "that 
the  Lord  took  him  —  deliberately? 
That  the  Lord  put  that  poor  little 

37 


456889 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

fellow  through  weeks  of  useless  agony 
—and  then  killed  him?" 

"Hush!" 

Falcontent  would  not  be  quieted. 
His  eyes  were  flushed  with  rage;  his 
nostrils  flared;  his  teeth  were  bared. 
'You  call  that  Design?"  he  cried. 
"Design — hell!  That  was  Chance. 
There  is  no  God!" 

Ha!  Was  it  so?  A  wad  needed 
nothing  more.  It  was  an  old  problem. 
He  gripped  Falcontent's  forearm  to 
restrain  him.  "  Sh-h !"  he  commanded. 
"It  is  too  loud  for  be  polite.  You 
have  shame  yourself.  An'  me — your 
dragoman!"  Falcontent's  resentment 
failed.  He  had  not  the  strength  to 
sustain  rage:  he  was  able  only  to 
continue  in  sulky  rebellion.  He  was 
listless  now  once  more;  he  stared 
vacantly  upon  the  scornful  comment 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

his  outburst — though  in  English — had 
aroused.  "Listen!"  the  dragoman 
went  on,  his  voice  low,  his  words 
clear-cut,  his  way  authoritative.  ' '  You 
go  the  Holy  Land  by  present  inten 
tion.  I  know  that  much.  It  is  for 
the  cure.  Some  friend  say,  'Go  an' 
be  heal'.'  I  understan'.  Many  peo 
ples — many,  oh,  many,  many  peoples 
come  to  Holy  Land  to  be  cure'  of 
sorrow.  Ver'  commonplace  to  hap 
pen.  But  mos'  dangerous  practice. 
I  have  see'  cure;  I  have  also  see' 
ruin.  Now  I  am  deep  student  of  ver' 
mos'  new  an'  modern  theology.  Ver' 
good.  I  prescribe.  Privilege  granted? 
Listen!  We  go  to  Jerusalem.  True; 
but  by  way  of  Mount  Sinai.  By  way 
of  Suez,  the  Monastery  of  St.  Cathe 
rine,  Akaba,  El-Ma'an,  Petra.  I  make 
no  bones,  sir.  It  is  a  long  desert 

39 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

journey:  ver'  harsh  journey — includin' 
dangers  proceedin'  from  robbers'  habi 
tations.  But  mos'  excellent  health  is 
thereby  to  be  gain'.  Ver'  good. 
Quite  satisfy?  I  prepare,  then,  my 
outfit  of  men  an'  animals  at  once.  .  .  . 
Mm-m?" 

It  was  an  appealing  suggestion. 
Falcontent  was  moved  to  carry  his 
sorrow  to  an  exceeding  desolation. 
And  he  was  sensible,  too,  of  the  phys 
ical  advantage.  There  was  surely 
bodily  cure— the  cure  of  physical  folly 
—to  be  found  on  the  caravan  route. 

:'That  listens  all  right,  George, 
said  he.  "But  what  do  you  get  out 
of  this?" 

"Surely,"  the  dragoman  replied, 
with  a  shrug,  "I  have  honor  to  arrange 
contract  with  reasonable  profit  de 
volving  upon  me.  .  .  .  Expense,  as 

40 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

it  were,  Mr.  Falcon  tent — no  object? 
Mrn-m?  Doubtless  not?" 

"Oh,  anything  reasonable,  George," 
said  Falcontent.  "But  I  don't  want 
to  be  stung." 

"Ver'  reasonable,  Mr.  Falcontent. 
No  sting  in  contract  of  Mr.  Amos 
Awad.  I  do  so  assure  you  upon 
honor." 

Falcontent  came  to  a  quick  decision. 
"All  right,  George,"  said  he,  with 
spirit.  "I'll  go.  And  we'll  get  to 
work  and  arrange  the  terms  of  that 
little  contract  right  now." 

Falcontent  rode  into  Jerusalem  near 
the  close  of  day — the  day  before 
Christmas.  Awad  had  proved  a  faith 
ful,  companionable  fellow;  he  had 
been  solicitous  concerning  Falcon- 
tent's  first  pains  of  travel — he  had 

41 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

been  grim,  businesslike,  vastly  deter 
mined  in  respect  to  the  way  and  the 
hours  of  riding.  There  had  been  no 
discussion  of  Falcontent's  perplexities. 
There  had  been  entertainment :  Awad 
had  told  many  engaging  stories  to 
relieve  the  monotony  of  the  sand- 
such  Eastern  tales  as  are  told,  in 
various  forms,  names  varying,  inci 
dents  differing  somewhat  from  the 
Occidental  traditions,  but  the  moral 
unchanged,  to  while  away  time  and 
weariness  in  all  the  deserts  of  the 
East.  And  Falcontent  had  indeed 
matched  his  sorrow  against  an  exceed 
ing  desolation:  a  land,  however,  un 
able  to  wrench  any  complaint  against 
Fate  from  its  lean  dwellers.  Falcon- 
tent  was  himself  now  lean  and  brown 
with  weeks  of  desert  travel.  His  eyes 
were  clean  and  quick  and  sure.  It 

42 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

had  been  a  short  ride  that  day;  he 
tingled  with  muscular  exaltation.  He 
was  toned;  it  was  a  physically  reha 
bilitated  Falcontent.  He  was  in  appe 
tite;  he  could  sleep.  .  .  .  Sell  shoes? 
Well,  rather!  By  Jove — Falcontent 
would  sure  show  old  man  Groot  that 
he  had  "come  back"!  And  he  had 
not  yet  even  seen  the  Holy  Places! 
It  would  sure  be  a  laugh  on  Groot! 

Falcontent  could  laugh — now.  But 
his  mirth  was  hard,  a  mere  reflex, 
without  feeling.  It  was  mirth  without 
sure  foundation.  There  was  no  spirit 
ual  health  in  it.  At  the  first  touch  of 
adversity  the  laughter  might  turn  to 
jeering  cachinnation.  Life  was  a  grim 
experience:  a  man  was  born,  lived, 
died.  'To-morrow  we  die!"  Falcon- 
tent  stood  no  longer  in  confusion 
between  Design  and  Chance.  He  had 

43 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

settled  that  question  for  good  and  all. 
And  what  a  fool  he  had  been  to  trou 
ble  about  it  at  all!  How  shall  a  man 
surely  know?  Falcontent  laughed  to 
think  of  the  hurtful  folly  of  his  brood 
ing.  .  .  .  God?  There  was  no  God. 
There  were  many  gods:  gods  of  all 
peoples — a  vast  variety.  There  were 
many  superstitions;  there  was  much 
bowing  down.  ...  A  flash  of  agitated 
uncertainty  passed  over  Falcontent 
when  he  reflected  that  his  was  the 
only  generation  of  all  the  generations 
of  men  (as  he  fancied)  by  whom  the 
worship  of  God  had  been  generally 
abandoned.  .  .  .  But  why  not?  'The 
old  order  change  th."  The  times  were 
new.  .  .  .  "God  of  our  fathers!"  How 
the  old  teachings  persisted  in  a  man's 
imagination!  Falcontent  could  recall 
the  psalm — and  the  nasal  singing.  It 

44 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

aggravated  him  to  remember.  He 
concerned  his  thoughts  with  the  road. 
...  It  was  crisp  weather;  it  was 
much  like  a  harvest  evening  —  at 
home.  Light  lingered  upon  the  city. 
It  was  a  city  lying  soft  and  half 
revealed  in  a  mist  of  twilight. 

"Jerusalem!"  Falcontent  thought. 
"Well — I'm  damned!  Jim  Falcon- 
tent,  of  Groot  &  McCarthy — in  Jeru 
salem!" 

Falcontent  was  subconsciously  dis 
appointed  to  find  no  glory  of  heavenly 
light  upon  the  flat  roofs,  and  no  glow 
of  peace  and  beneficence  upon  the 
countenances  of  the  sinister-appearing 
inhabitants.  He  had,  like  a  child- 
it  was  a  legacy  of  childhood — looked 
for  some  continued  manifestation  of 
the  story  of  the  Divine  residence. 

"Nice  town,  Awad?"  he  inquired. 

45 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

'Ver'  modern  city,  accordin'  East 
ern  standards,"  the  dragoman  replied, 
with  a  flirt  of  his  dainty  mustache. 
"Ver'  human  peoples  live  here.  Dis 
appoint',  eh?"  he  ran  on.  "Jus*  so. 
Ver'  much  like  all  tourist'  excep'  ver' 
old  people.  You  think  to  see  pearly 
gates  an'  golden  streets,  eh?  Ha,  ha! 
Oh,  dear  me,  no !  Ver'  human  city  of 
present  day.  Ver'  up-to-date  town. 
Always  was,  I  take  it.  Possibly  so  in 
time  of  King  Solomon.  An'  in  days 
of  King  David — doubtless  so?  Why 
not?  Mm-m?" 

It  occurred  to  Falcontent  for  the 
first  time  with  significant  conviction 
that  Jerusalem  was  a  reality;  that 
the  city 'had  been  real  from  generation 
to  generation — here  situated — near  by 
—and  that  the  happenings  recorded 
were  realities  like  the  events  of  pro- 

46 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

fane  history — of  the  American  Revo 
lution. 

But- 

"  Garden  of  Gethsemane  still  around 
here?"  he  yawned. 

"Oh  yes.  Ver'  close  by  the  city. 
Carriage  an'  all  fees  suppli'  by  terms 
of  my  contract." 

"Got  a  fence  around  it?"  Falcon- 
tent  joked. 

"Oh  yes." 

"What!"  Falcontent  exclaimed. 

"Not  what  you  call  precisely  picket 
fence,"  the  dragoman  replied.  "Much 
more  substantial.  A  ver'  solid  wall." 

"  Sure  they  got  the  right  spot  fenced 
in?" 

"  My  habit  truth  an'  probity  compel 
me  say  I  personally  ver'  much  doubt. 
Right  place?  What  matter?  Pst!" 

What  did  it  matter? 

4  47 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

"Haven't  moved  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  have  they?" 

"Oh,  my  dear  sir!"  Awad  laughed. 
"Impossible  job  for  to  perform.  An' 
Palestine  antiquities,  my  dear  sir,  not 
for  sale  for  decorate  landscape  of  the 
American  millionaire." 

"Calvary?" 

"Same  oP  place,  sir,"  the  dragoman 
replied,  gravely,  "but  naturally  ver' 
much  change'.  Ver'  well  authenti 
cate',  too,  accordin'  by  latest  authori 
ties.  Which  thing  I  am  ver'  happy  to 
state — with  perfect  truth,  at  last." 

Falcontent  rode  on  in  silence.  It 
was  dark  in  the  city.  There  were  no 
details:  there  was  the  mystery  of 
dim-lit  habitations — of  narrow  streets 
—of  shuffling  forms.  .  .  .  And  this  was 
Jerusalem!  There  was  actually  such 
a  place!  Falcontent  all  at  once  real- 

48 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

ized  the  existence  of  the  city  as  a 
physical  fact.  It  had  a  place  in  his 
tory — not  wholly  in  legend.  It  was 
of  old  time.  It  was  real.  .  .  .  The 
American  Revolution  and  the  Civil 
War  were  legendary  conflicts  in  Fal- 
content's  consciousness  until  he  had 
with  amazed  understanding  set  foot 
on  the  battle-fields  and  stared  about! 
.  .  .  And  Gethsemane  was  near  by. 
Precise  location?  Pst!  What  mat 
ter?  There  had  been  a  Garden  of 
Gethsemane!  The  Mount  of  Olives, 
too:  it  was  a  remarkable  hill — now 
within  reach,  like  Grant's  Tomb  at 
home.  And  Calvary !  There  had  been 
a  place  called  Calvary ! .  .  .  Falcontent 
was  profoundly  moved  by  his  proxim 
ity  to  these  places  which  now  at  last 
were  real.  Falcontent  was  shocked; 
his  unbelief  in  the  tradition — was  it 

49 


tradition? — of  the  Divine  Presence 
upon  earth  was  disturbed.  A  presence 
in  Jerusalem — roundabout:  here  and 
beyond.  .  .  .  Falcontent  began  to 
whistle  a  snatch  from  "The  Queen  of 
the  Great  White  Way."  It  was  in 
congruous;  he  could  not  bear  to 
continue.  .  .  .  There  had  been  a 
Teacher:  that  was  true — it  was  as 
true  as  Grant  and  Lincoln  and  Wash 
ington — and  the  teaching  was  not  yet 
forgotten  in  the  world.  Falcontent 
knew  it  all  well  enough — the  life  and 
philosophy  which  somewhere  near  by 
these  very  places  had  had  their  origin. 
.  .  .  To  relieve  the  agitation  of  these 
disclosures  Falcontent  tried  once  more 
the  topical  song  from  "The  Queen  of 
the  Great  White  Way."  It  was 
impossible. 

"Cold?"  Awad  inquired. 

50 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

"No,"  Falcontent  answered.  "I'm 
not  cold.  I'm  shivering,  though. 
That's  funny,  isn't  it?" 

"  Well,  no,"  said  Awad.  "  Ver'  com 
monplace  thing  to  happen.  I  should 
not  have  be  surprise'  if,  on  the  other 
hand,  you  have  swear  ver'  harshly." 

Falcontent  had  experienced — and 
had  thereby  been  horrified — a  curious 
impulse  to  blaspheme. 

'That's  queer,"  he  drawled  now. 

;'Ver'  commonplace  thing,"  the 
dragoman  repeated.  He  shrugged. 
"I  recommend,  if  I  be  permit',"  he 
went  on,  impassively,  "a  hot  bath, 
food,  an'  perusal  of  Holy  Scriptures 
for  historical  data.  I  am  great  be 
liever  in  original  sources.  Let  us  say, 
Gospel  accordin'  St.  Luke — chapter 
two,  especially.  It  is  Christmas  Eve. 
To-night  —  accordin'  by  itinerary  - 

51 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

we  visit  Bethlehem.  Carriage  an'  all 
fees  my  pleasure  to  provide  accordin' 
by  terms  of  my  contract." 

When,  late  that  Christmas  Eve,  the 
little  dragoman  knocked  on  the  door 
of  Falcontent's  room  in  a  hotel  by  the 
Jaffa  Gate,  Falcontent  had  gathered  a 
deal  of  historical  data  from  the  orig 
inal  sources.  .  .  . 

And  there  were  in  the  same  country 
shepherds  abiding  in  the  field,  keep 
ing  watch  on  their  flocks  by  night. 
And,  lo,  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came 
upon  them,  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord 
shone  round  about  them,  and  they  were 
sore  afraid.  And  the  angel  said  unto 
them,  Fear  not,  for  behold,  I  bring  you 
tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  to 
all  people:  for  unto  you  is  born  this 

day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour, 
59 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

which  is  Christ  the  Lord.  And  this  shall 
be  a  sign  unto  you:  Yon  shall  find  the 
babe  wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes,  lying 
in  a  manger.  And  suddenly  there  was 
with  the  angel  a  multitude  of  the 
heavenly  host,  praising  God,  and  say 
ing,  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and 
on  earth  peace  and  good  will  toward 
men.  And  it  came  to  pass  that  as  the 
angels  were  going  away  from  them  into 
heaven  the  shepherds  said  one  to  another, 
Let  us  now  go  even  unto  Bethlehem, 
and  see  the  thing  which  has  come  to 
pass,  which  the  Lord  has  made  known 
to  us.  .  .  .  And  Falcontent  had  perused 
the  tragedy  from  that  beginning  to 
its  heroic  end.  It  was  all  familiar, 
to  be  sure — had  continued  in  Falcon- 
tent's  memory  since  those  old  New 
England  days ;  but  was  now  new  with 
reality  and  meaning. 


FINDING    HIS   SOUL 

"I'm  tired,"  Falcontent  protested 
to  the  dragoman.  "I  guess  we'd 
better  put  the  Bethlehem  trip  off." 

"Ha!"  the  dragoman  ejaculated. 
"We  go,"  he  announced,  calmly.  "It 
is  my  greates'  ambition  to  serve  my 
gentlemen.  I  fail — never!  We  go. 
I  am  flat  in  it." 

Falcontent  was  presently  rattling 
over  the  road  to  Bethlehem.  It  was 
a  clear  night.  There  were  stars— 
brilliantly  shining.  A  moon  was  im 
minent.  A  shadowy  country — waste 
like  a  wilderness  in  the  night — was 
on  either  side.  The  road  lay  white 
and  dusty.  It  was  an  old  road — an 
old,  old  way  of  going  and  coming.  It 
had  felt  the  imprint  of  dusty  feet 
these  many  long-forgotten  years.  .  .  . 
The  world  was  surely  very  old:  that 
which  persisted  from  generation  to 

54 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

generation  was  of  value — new  things 
doubtful.  .  .  .  Falcontent  was  cold. 
But  the  night  was  warm.  Yet  Fal 
content  shivered;  his  hands  trembled 

—teeth  clicked  together.  He  was 
hardly  able  to  command  this  nervous 
spasm.  .  .  .  There  came,  by  and  by, 
dark,  winding  streets,  rough,  narrow. 
The  horses  stumbled.  .  .  .  There  was 
the  Church  of  the  Nativity:  it  was 
like  a  fortification.  There  was  a  nar 
row  door — there  were  wide,  cathedral 
spaces — there  was  the  light  of  candles 

—there  were  ecclesiastical  robes- 
there  was  incense — there  were  many 
voices  distantly  chanting — there  was 
the  wonder  of  some  mystical  cere 
mony  by  which  Falcontent  was  shaken 
from  his  hold  on  the  commonplaces 
of  life.  .  .  .  And  Falcontent  stared 
and  listened,  transported  so  far  from 

55 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

Broadway  by  the  vision  and  music 
of  these  mysteries  that  Broadway  was 
no  longer  within  his  recollection,  save 
as  a  blurred,  contrasting  horror. 

Thereafter  Falcontent  stood  for  a 
long  time  midway  of  a  narrow  stone 
stair — gazing  awed  now  into  the 
Grotto  of  the  Nativity.  It  was  a 
small  space.  The  yellow  light  of 
many  candles  illuminated  it.  ... 
Many  people  knelt  below  in  adora 
tion:  these  were  Russian  pilgrims- 
folk  of  a  race  cruelly  oppressed;  yet 
their  countenances  gave  no  sign  of 
oppression,  but  were  clean  of  guile 
and  fear  and  suspicion,  and  all  manner 
of  trouble.  Peace  was  upon  all  them 
that  adored:  such  peace — Falcontent 
reflected  in  the  terms  of  other  times— 
as  the  world  can  neither  give  nor  take 
away.  t  ,  .  And  so  it  had  been: 
50 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

a  faith  continuing  from  generation 
to  generation,  comforting,  inspiring, 
peace-bringing,  giving  hope  and  cour 
age — the  integrity  of  its  essentials 
preserved,  after  all,  against  the  cock 
sure  philosophies  of  these  new  days. 

"Ver'  much  regret,"  the  dragoman 
whispered  in  Falcontent's  ear.  "Ac- 
cordin'  my  Bethlehem  itinerary,  it  is 
time  for  visit  Field  of  Shepherds." 

Falcontent  started. 

"Oh,  we'll  cut  that  out!"  he  whis 
pered,  hastily.  "I  guess  I  better  get 
back  to  the  hotel." 

But  Falcontent  followed  a  rocky 
pathway,  leading  down,  leading  on, 
inclining  toward  the  stars,  to  a  hill, 
near  by  some  ancient  ruins,  below 
which  a  field  lay  in  a  mist  of  moon 
light.  .  .  .  Falcontent  was  cold;  but 
yet  it  was  a  warm  night.  It  was  not 

57 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

the  cold.  He  was  afraid ;  he  trembled 
—and  was  afraid.  .  .  .  Awad  withdrew. 
Falcontent  stood  alone.  ...  It  is 
related  of  Saul  of  Tarsus,  as  Falcon- 
tent  then  singularly  recalled,  that, 
being  on  the  road  to  Damascus,  there 
shined  round  about  him  a  light  from 
heaven,  and  he  fell  to  the  earth,  and 
heard  a  voice,  saying  unto  him,  Saul, 
Saul,  why  persecutest  thou  me?  And 
the  narrative  continues :  And  he  said, 
Who  art  thou,  Lord?  And  the  Lord 
said,  I  am  Jesus,  whom  thou  perse- 
cutest.  It  is  hard  for  thee  to  kick  against 
the  pricks.  And  he,  trembling  and 
astonished,  said,  Lord,  what  wilt  thou 
have  me  do?  .  .  .  No  light  from  heaven 
shined  round  about  James  Falcontent, 
of  Groot  &  McCarthy;  but  yet  he 
trembled  and  was  astonished — in  a 
great  illumination  of  the  spirit.  It  was 

58 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

a  simple  thing:  it  concerned  only  the 
realities  of  Falcontent's  experience. 
.  .  .  And  the  angel  said  unto  them, 
Fear  not,  for  behold,  I  bring  you  tidings 
of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  to  all  people: 
for  unto  you  is  born  this  day,  in  the 
city  of  David,  a  Saviour.  .  .  .  And  it 
was  true!  Salvation  had  proceeded 
from  that  Birth:  all  liberty  in  the 
world,  as  Falcontent  kne\v  the  world, 
and  the  ages  of  its  spinning — every 
simple  kindness — all  pure  aspiration— 
every  good  deed — all  true  forms  of 
love  and  virtue  and  high  courage  and 
justice.  .  .  .  And  the  God  of  Falcon- 
tent's  fathers  was  the  only  God  Fal 
content  knew  anything  about. 

There  was  a  peal  of  bells ;  the  ring 
ing  came  liquid-sweet  through  the 
moonlight  from  the  Church  of  the 
Nativity  on  the  hills  of  Bethlehem. 

59 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

"Amos!"  Falcontent  called. 
"Sir?    I  am  here/' 
"What  they  ringing  the  bells  for?" 
"It  is  Christmas  mornin',  sir." 
Falcontent  stood  staring  into  the 
mist  of  moonlight  below.     "I  guess 
you  better  leave  me  alone  for  a  little 
while,    Amos,"    he    said,    presently, 
without    turning.      "I — want    to    be 
alone."     After  that  Falcontent  lifted 
his  face  to  the  sky  and  prayed.     It 
should  astonish  no  one.    Many  a  good 
man  has  done  the  like  of  it  since  the 
world  began.  .  .  . 

Well,  what  miracle?  What  amazing 
transformation?  Falcontent  looked 
fit:  that  was  true.  The  same  old 
Falcontent! — the  Falcontent  of  his 
heartiest  days.  Back  in  New  York 
now,  still  a  bit  lean  and  brown  with 

60 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

desert  travel.  To  the  eye — to  the  ear 
—to  the  heart  of  his  intimates — he 
was  the  same  man  he  had  been  at 
his  best.  He  was  selling  shoes  for 
Groot  &  McCarthy,  too,  in  vast 
quantities,  in  Boston,  Philadelphia, 
and  New  York.  There  were  some 
little  omissions  of  behavior,  to  be 
sure,  as  he  went  about.  They  were 
not  obtrusive:  they  earned — they  de 
served — no  comment.  A  big,  ruddy, 
big-hearted  man — that  was  James 
Falcontent:  a  clean,  kindly,  hopeful, 
energetic,  merry  fellow,  given  to  no 
meanness,  to  no  greed,  to  no  unworthy 
pride,  to  no  dishonor  whatsoever. 
And  he  was  sane  according  to  every 
goodly  notion  of  the  times.  It  would 
have  alarmed  him  —  shamed  and 
grieved  him— to  discover  any  symp 
tom  of  peculiarity.  Not  an  alienist 

61 


FINDING    HIS    SOUL 

of  virtuous  reputation  could  have  dis 
covered  in  Falcontent  the  least  diver 
gence  from  the  straight  line  of  nor 
mality.  Nor  could  a  surgeon  with 
due  regard  for  the  ethics  of  his  pro 
fession  have  found  in  Falcontent  any 
honest  employment  for  his  knife;  nor 
could  a  devoted  practitioner  of  inter 
nal  medicine  have  supplied  a  need  of 
Falcontent's  hearty  body.  Falcontent 
was  a  robust  fellow.  Falcontent  was 
in  vigorous  health.  What  need  had 
Falcontent  of  a  physician  or  a  surgeon  ? 
Falcontent's  soul?  Oh  yes,  Fal 
content  had  a  soul — and  had  in  some 
way  established  peace  with  it! 


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